Unsettled, Unprovoked
by Xanagar
Summary: Shinkenger. Both Chiaki and Takeru contemplate their recent confrontation, their duties as Shinkengers, and their willingness to keep fighting, no matter what the obstacle.


Title: Unsettled, Unprovoked

Author: Xanagar

Part: One-Shot

Rating: T

Genre: Romance/Angst

Series: Samurai Sentai Shinkenger

Pairing(s): Takeru/Chiaki

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of _Samurai Sentai Shinkenger_, nor did I gain any profit in producing this fan fiction.

**Warning(s)**

It's not even angst, really. But it's there anyway. Oh, and there is potential (?) romance between two males. You know the rules: don't like, don't read.

**Author's Note**

I've wanted to write some type of Shinkenger story for some time now, but could never find a good theme to wrap my head around. And then, there was Chiaki, who is both adorable and realistic to my own generation without being over-the-top. Considering he doesn't always get along with Takeru, this creates instantaneous, albeit moronically hilarious, scenarios for writers to immerse themselves in. Whether or not this could really even be classified as 'romantic' is up for debate. But, hey, there's always the potential for more. Hello, homo-lovin'.

Unsettled, Unprovoked

Chiaki was restless.

There were very few things in life that absolutely grated upon his nerves; this was most certainly one of them. His head was pounding; he felt abnormally hot, probably from all of the anger that was currently boiling up inside of him. He thought to himself, "Who does he think he is, anyway? Who gave him the right to make decisions so frivolously?"

Of course, he had already known the answers to such questions. It was because he, Takeru, was the lord. _Their_ lord. With a title like that, there were countless responsibilities that Chiaki couldn't begin to comprehend. For that alone, he had respect for his comrade. But nonetheless, to say something so emotionless, so clear-cut… it was as though he cared nothing for Chiaki's own pains, at all.

"_If you're not going to be serious about being a Shinkenger, you're fired."_

He stopped suddenly to listen to himself. It angered him even more that he could even be producing such thoughts. He knew Takeru was in the right, knew that he, Chiaki, would have to work harder. He would have to take his training seriously, and would most likely have to improve his fighting and teamwork skills in order to be taken seriously. But none of this fazed him. It wasn't the fact that he would have to become a better fighter that ate away at him – it was the memory itself, the image that replayed itself constantly in his head of Takeru, his lord, threatening to remove him from duty.

He had known this would be a difficult undertaking, but he hadn't imagined it could possibly be _this_ tough. And for what it was worth, he hadn't met Takeru then. Now that they were officially Shinkengers, everything was placed in a completely different, more realistic perspective. They could no longer afford to be anything but their best.

What had he expected, anyway? Did he think that Takeru would just put up with his incompetence, allow it to go unnoticed? Was he, dare he say it, a failure? No – no, he wouldn't think that way, not now when he had to be stronger, better. But there was still that threatening tone of voice, the way it had sent countless shivers down his back, the way it had regarded him as some sort of being at the bottom of the food chain.

And then there was his face, the way he had looked during that moment. Unsurprisingly, he had appeared without any emotions whatsoever – it was his own nature. But Chiaki could have sworn he had spotted something there, if not only for a moment in time. What had it been? A word balanced at the tip of his tongue. It was sharp, unforgiving – like a Samurai's own sword.

Pity.

Chiaki held his head in his hands. It was all so… unsettling.

---

Takeru was quiet. He sat alone, musing to himself, comforted only by the occasional noise of a tree branch or the wind.

He had not been too harsh on Chiaki. This is what he repeated to himself over and over again. Even in his own head, his voice was uncaring, almost unnaturally so. At first, he had questioned himself. He was their leader; would it not be beneficial to nourish his underlings so that they could grow? Wouldn't it had been better to simply explain to Chiaki privately that his training was lacking?

No, it couldn't have happened. Not like that. He knew people like Chiaki, people who had spent the majority of their young life slacking off, rebelling against those at the top of the social hierarchies. It was typical, and completely unprovoked. It was natural for anyone his age to feel that way. But he wasn't just _anyone_. He was a Samurai, a Shinkenger. He, of all people, should know better.

Speaking kindly wouldn't have reached any solution whatsoever. In order for Chiaki to fully grasp the severity of their scenario, Takeru had been given no other alternative but to be as forthright, and as direct with him as possible, even if it meant hurting his feelings, or causing him to rebel in his own natural, predictive way. Takeru would continue this method; it was for Chiaki's own good. He so desperately longed to see the other boy grow, to evolve into a Samurai worthy of even taking on the role as lord if something were to happen in battle to those above him in rank. And with the danger that they currently faced, such a situation was not out of the question at all.

And, of course, there was another reason. Because he was their leader, it was essential that he not reveal his own worries, his own demons for them to see. But there was something that clawed at his insides. Ever since he'd had the pleasure of seeing Chiaki fight – which, to his own recollection, had only happened a handful of times, anyway – he'd believed that the other boy really could become something great if he would only put his mind to achieving such greatness. The idea of losing such a valuable partner in battle would haunt him for as long as they were forced to fight.

He had wanted to fight alone, obviously, so as to avoid this scenario altogether. But he knew now that such an idea was preposterous. He would not be able to do this alone, would not be able to win this war by himself. He would need Ryunosuke's need to care for others. He would need small, innocent Kotoha. He would need Mako and her level-headedness.

And he would need Chiaki, too. Yes, he said to himself, quieter still, "Chiaki, though you don't realize it yet, you're not a failure."

He pictured the boy in his mind: the bronzed shade of his skin, the adorable way his hair always looked, the luster and hunger always present in his eyes, the way he smiled. "You're essential."


End file.
